In Praise of Silence

Guest Opinion

I am quite deaf, but that does not mean I have trouble hearing sounds. Certainly, some people are like that—unable to detect sounds—but I am not one of them. My disability, however annoying, still permits me to hear birdsong and the chirping of crickets, though my perception of them differs from most people’s.

The problem with my hearing does not relate to hearing too little, but to hearing too much. Ambient noise keeps me from understanding the words of my friends, sometimes spoken only a few feet away. The worst of it occurs in restaurants ill-designed to accommodate the hard-of-hearing.

One café I frequent regularly is a prime offender. All surfaces are hard: concrete floors, exposed ceiling infrastructure, tables, counters, and glass windows without curtains. Background music drones on without end. Tables are set close to each other with no partitions. The roar of latte machines punctuates the air. Metal chairs clank incessantly as they are moved about. Children make an uproar (though the restaurant probably can’t do much to quell them).

Because of the bedlam, my friends and I cannot use the place for social reasons. We end up staring hopelessly as one of us tries to break through the wall of sound that surrounds us.

I know another restaurant that does all the right things. It is located in a hotel (hotels are frequently deaf-friendly places). There is carpet on the floor and curtains on the windows. Booths are widely separated from each other. The ceiling is high and does not reveal the ducts of infrastructure. TV and music do not intrude on the meal. Children, if present, are supervised by their parents: the expectation is that they will behave in this place.

When my friends and I visit this restaurant, we know that we will hear each other. To make sure, we schedule our lunches after 1:30pm, after the main trade has gotten up and left.

Restaurants can do things to help the hard-of-hearing. They can seat patrons away from each other, especially families with noisy children. They can get rid of ambient music and TV. They can consider installing sound-deadening fabrics, carpets, and wall insulation. They can seat persons with hearing disability (it is easy to tell them by their hearing devices) away from noisy spots such as doors to the kitchen or loud coffee makers.

Best of all, they could inform us about their deaf-friendly atmosphere and encourage us to come at off-hours, that invitation certainly boosting their profits. Deaf-friendly does not have to mean more expense for restaurant owners. Instead, if properly advertised, it can mean more grateful customers. After all, we do not dine out just for the food, but for companionship and fun, and we are always searching for new places.

On the street outside the restaurant, noise levels have crept up, decade after decade, reaching its peak at this very moment. Consider the soundscape of young Emily Dickinson in the early nineteenth century, a time before aircraft and automobiles, when railroads and steamships were only beginning to foul the air with their deafening whistles and metal-upon-metal clanking. In contrast to the hubbub of modern-day life, the sound of the wind in the trees was background noise, punctuated by the calls of animals and voices of humans.

Those sounds can scarcely be heard as one walks along Eighth Street during high traffic hours: cars, trucks, Harleys, sirens, helicopters, and airplanes drown them out. Sadly, I do not see how to quell the noise, though electric cars, trucks, buses, and motor scooters will certainly help. Legislation that requires adequate mufflers on motorized vehicles might help, too, but I cannot see owners of Harleys agreeing to that. Isn’t the noise half the fun?

Here is my opinion about excessive noise makers, for what it is worth: Your freedom to make 70-decibel sounds when you accelerate stops at my eardrum. And that goes for that horrendous beep-beep that comes from construction vehicles backing up. Yes, the warning can prevent accidents, but if the system is designed to make bystanders move aside when a vehicle is backing up, then why do the beeps have to be so loud they wake me up in the morning? Me, trying to sleep a quarter of a mile away?

And sirens—yes, there are times when first responders must turn them on to get someplace in a hurry. But are there times you might elect to turn them off because speed is not important—especially times like Sunday morning when there is almost no traffic on the road in the first place? Just asking.

The truth of the matter is that we will only gain a quieter environment when we insist on it. I’m ready to join the battle. Are you?

A former science teacher in the Traverse City Area Public Schools, Richard Fidler writes books about the history and natural history of the Grand Traverse area. 

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